A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(30)

“Yeah, right? I wasn’t ever a ray of fucking sunshine, but I had my moments. Anyway, we have a shitload of hobbies here. After the master is done with you, I can walk you through them all and see what you might want to do. That assclown Liron teaches watercolors, if you want to give that a go. It’s not as boring if you’re drinking.”

“I’m not a painter, I don’t think.”

“Neither am I. I painted pictures of penises. I couldn’t even get that right. He kept commenting on my finished product, thinking I’d painted a bouquet of flowers or something. But really he was complimenting me on a bunch of dicks. I kept going back just for that. Eventually someone told on me and ruined all my fun.”

I chuckled helplessly as he opened the door leading outside and waited for me to go through.

“One thing of note,” he said, pointing at a wide set of stairs that had been freshly painted. We stepped down to a natural rise in the countryside, the base covered in colorful tiles that hosted a round wood table and matching chairs. Brown and brittle grass led away to a patch of trees much tamer than the Forbidden Wood. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…well, I’m going to. If you plan to rebel against the master and leave your room at night, you should go to the salon. It takes place in the early evening before all the major stuff kicks off. It’s the safest activity for you.”

I put a hand up to my hair. It had only ever been cut by Mom or Hannon. I could probably use someone who knew what they were doing.

“No, not that kind of salon, love,” he said. “It’s not for the hair on your head. It’s for the lady beard.” He pointed at my crotch. “You can go in there and get shaved, and it’s super delicious and erotic. Then, if you want, you can round it out with a little meow, meow.” He winked at me.

“Is this the beginning of the road to shame-fucking?”

“No. This is just a way to treat yourself. Get that lady beard spruced up, get yourself a little meow, meow, and relax. You can lie with a cloth divider hanging around your middle, or at your neck or whatever, so they can’t see who they are servicing. Then it’s totally anonymous.”

“Demons do this?”

“Yeah, but the really low-powered ones. They feed off your pleasure still, but they don’t really muddle the head or anything. It’s about as safe as you are going to get in that regard.”

“I can make a draught that deadens the demon lust magic.”

He put his hand to my arm as we walked. “Shut the fuck up. Are you serious? You can?”

“Yeah. I just have to find the right herbs. You can have some if you want.”

“Um…yes! Are you some kind of stem witch or something? That’s awesome.”

“You’ve had your sex, and I’ve had my plants. I need to make a morning tea, too. I devised it to give the kick like coffee, and I could’ve really used it this morning—”

He stopped and yanked me around to face him, utterly serious. “Do not lie to me about a coffee replacement or I will pull your hair. All these years and I am still desperate for a cup of coffee in the morning.”

“It’s tea, but it apparently gets the job done.”

“Finley, you talented, smart, sparkling gift from the goddess, you. I could just kiss you.” He started walking again. “We’ll get you all the herbs you need, don’t you worry. I will literally cut someone to get them. I’ll cut them, I don’t care.”

I laughed as he pointed to the left on a diagonal, and we crested a little rise. On the other side, just within the trees of the nicer-looking wood, a field of everlass spread out before us. It wasn’t as large as the one I’d used in the Forbidden Wood, but it was just as well maintained, with large, healthy plants and big, vibrant leaves. Nyfain bent in the middle of them, his shirt pulled up against his back to reveal four silver parallel lines not quite covered in new ink. He’d been both scored and tattooed somewhat recently.

Now that I saw him, the desire to get to him and the pain of resisting finally dissolved. He straightened up with a couple of wilting leaves, taking care of some pruning. That strange weight within—my animal—surged at the sight of him before settling down again until I couldn’t feel her at all.

Only then did Nyfain turn and glance at me. Right at me, too, like he’d cataloged my approach and held off on acknowledging my presence until I was actively waiting for him. In other words, he was playing alpha dick swinger. That rat bastard.

“Finley,” Dick Swinger said as he approached, and that goddess-damned voice slid over me like an intimate massage. I hated that.

“Nyfain,” I responded casually.

That gorgeous golden gaze beat into me, and I soaked up the electric current crackling in the air between us. In the full sunlight, I could now clearly see his face. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. A straight nose cut through almost sharp cheekbones, hollowed at the cheek. Dark reddish stubble covered his defined jaw and dipped into the cleft at his chin. His unruly dark brown hair curled behind his ears and swept across his forehead. He could’ve been handsome, if a bit severe, if not for the scars slicing up his visage. One streaked through an eyebrow, and another pulled at his full lips.

His size was just shy of imposing. He was seven feet tall, at least, with huge, robust shoulders and thick slabs of muscle covering his large frame. I’d always felt big for my sex. Tall, thick. He made me feel absolutely puny. Dainty in a way I’d never thought possible. Jedrek had nothing on him. Hannon would be dwarfed, as well. Nyfain was a stack of lethal.